


Frost

by notaredshirt



Series: 25 Days of Prompts 2012 [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Sad, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaredshirt/pseuds/notaredshirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He scrubbed the frost out of the grooves of the headstone, and walked away, another day gone without Sherlock by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frost

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really ship johnlock all that much, so this isn't meant to be shippy, but I suppose, if you want, it could be viewed as pre-slash.

The air was cold, the ground hard, the frost glistening on the grass; nothing he hadn’t come to expect from his visits. He knew perfectly well how foolish it was to stand before a grave and speak to its occupant, deceased and long past caring about his attention, but it calmed him. On the days he could no longer function through the pain of remembrance or his limp became too much for him to walk, he’d visit the grave. 

His visits were never the same; some days he stood in silence, staring at the name on the tombstone, reminding himself that it was true, and other days he talked about his life, the women he was dating with little success, the latest gossip from the neighbors and the Yard. He talked about Greg taking up with Mycroft, about Harry’s efforts toward fixing her relationship, about the little things he’d noticed about his patients through the day and the more elaborate lies he’d heard explaining away suspiciously unusual injuries. Some days, often at first, but increasingly rare, he ranted and accused and cursed his friend for leaving him, for being his angel and pulling him out of his disinterest for life and then dropping him back into it.

By the end of his visit he’d usually run out of things to say or the groundskeeper had started ushering him away, and he took a moment to be grateful. He scrubbed the frost out of the grooves of the headstone, and walked away, another day gone without Sherlock by his side.


End file.
